The Dragons' Legacy
by Celestial Embers
Summary: The Dragonborn is at an impasse. He has vanquished Alduin, destroyed the Vampires, defeated Miraak and bested the Ebony Warrior. He has completed all quests and conquered all of Skyrim. So what is there left for him to do? Why, explore the rest of Nirn of course. This is the tale of The Last Dragonborn and his companion Odahviing, as they set foot in the land of Alagaesia.
1. Prologue - Leaving Skyrim

My first ever upload! For the sake of this story Alagaesia is a continent on Nirn. Just saying. Oh and the first chapter is a prologue. Every story needs a prologue, especially crossovers. Enjoy!

* * *

 **30** **th** **of Evening Star**

" _Show me that you are the hero they say you are"_.

Whatever it was I expected, this was not it. I have fought men, elves, dragons and Daedra, yet none come close to the level of power I am up against now. After an eternity of enduring blow upon ridiculously strong blow and only inflicting minor damage in return, I finally found an opening, blasting the Ebony Warrior down a cliff with my Unrelenting Force shout. Not that it did much good. The bastard would just not die! As my foe struggled to get up I decided to play my trump card and summoned my most powerful ally, Karstaag. The ghostly frost giant turned out to be a lifesaver, slamming his club repeatedly against the unprotected Redguard while giving me the time to heal my broken body. Having regained a large portion of my strength back, I glanced up in time to see Karstaag release a powerful gust of chilly air, launching my enemy towards me. Realizing the frost giant's intention I quickly unsheathed my dragonbone sword and barely managed to impale the body that landed on top of me, sheer dumb luck allowing the sword to slip through the cracks in the armor created by Karstaag's club.

Pushing the Ebony Warrior's body to the side, I shakily got to my feet and looked upon the dying body of my greatest adversary and final challenge. As powerful as he was, it seems not even this man could survive a blade piercing his heart. I was determined to remain at his side until the end though, a fellow warrior paying respects to a worthy opponent. The minutes passed and his breathing grew shallower, until he eventually took one final breath of air and whispered:

" _At last… Sovngarde"_.

* * *

" _Ysmir!"_

A female voice shouting the name christened to me by the Greybeards caught my attention as I walked through the Whiterun gates, in the direction of my home. For some reason no one seemed interested in my real name, always preferring to call me Dragonborn or Ysmir. Not that I minded it, I did try to keep my past tightly under wraps after all. I turned to face the source of the voice and was immediately accosted by my ever-faithful friend and housecarl, Lydia, and she did not look happy.

" _What were you thinking, facing that man all by yourself in the middle of nowhere! You should have brought me with you. Look at the state of your armor! Not to mention that you're completely filthy!"_

Lydia kept ranting for a couple more minutes before she calmed down, and settled into a steady pace beside me as we walked towards Breezehome. She did have a point though; my dragonscale armor was completely ruined. I decided to repair it later, but the only real thing on my mind right now was a long, hot bath.

I stripped off the last parts of my armor and undergarments before getting into the bath I had been provided. It has been a long time since I could relax like this, I mused. Or simply take a bath for that matter. Up until this point my life has been a non-stop adventure with new quests to undertake seemingly appearing out of thin air, not giving me a single moment of respite. In retrospect, I realize I have been little more than a Dwemer construct, mechanically dealing with whatever problem was sent my way, no matter how perilous, and without giving any thought to my own wishes. Perhaps now I have a chance to decide who I want to be, to choose for myself which path to follow. I scrubbed the remaining dirt off my hair and skin and got out of the water. Somehow I have the strangest feeling that my journey is far from over.

* * *

 **31** **st** **of Evening Star**

Today is the last day of the current year. The day of the Old Life Festival. The day when citizens of Tamriel reflect on their past experiences in the quiet sanctuary of temples. I am no exception, which is why I left Whiterun to visit the Temple of the Divines in Solitude. In fact, I believe this event may be of greater importance to me than most other people. Kneeling in front of the shrine of Akatosh, my "father", I close my eyes and let visions of the past repeat themselves in my mind.

 _ **Flashback**_

" _Legends don't burn down villages."_

" _Skyrim's harshness has a way of carving a man down to his true self."_

" _What is better – to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"_

" _The curse of much knowledge is often indecision."_

" _I have done all that can be done. There is nothing left. No quests to be undertaken, no villains to be slain. No challenges to face. Except for you."_

 _ **Flashback end**_

I knew what I had to do. I have bested legends and tamed the wilds. Evil souls have sought me out and I have vanquished them, gaining their power and yet remained righteous. My travels have earned me great knowledge, but now I have no more reason to use it. Skyrim has nothing left to offer, and I must seek my next challenge. It is time for me to leave.

* * *

 **1** **st** **of Morning Star**

I stood silently in the Great Porch of Dragonsreach, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. I knew not whether I would ever return to Tamriel again. It had hurt to say goodbye. It broke my heart to see the reactions of my friends, as they grasped the full meaning of my choice. My only consolation was the fact that I would not be travelling alone. A single tie to my home would remain; a final companion, an eternal friend. Together we will become something new, something never witnessed before. A Rider, and his Dragon.

" _ **Od Ah Viing!"**_


	2. Vroengard and the Nidwhal!

Yo! I'm back with an update! I've planned the first three chapters to be a little shorter than the rest, mainly because they depict the travels of our protagonists, from Skyrim to Alagaesia. This also means that you can expect another update pretty soon. In the future however, the chapters will be longer and take more time to write. On another note, thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows! I'm really happy you enjoyed the prologue and I hope this update lives up to expectations!

* * *

Odahviing and I have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble. After leaving the Summerset Isles about two weeks ago to traverse the Eltheric Ocean, we were completely and utterly lost. Neither of us had expected the sea to be so vast, and believed we would reach land within a couple of days, or a week at most. It never even occurred that there might not be any land at all. The only thing keeping us alive at the moment was a combination of scarce rations and some clever use of restoration and transmutation. The most vital thing however, was to keep the despair from settling in; something which was becoming increasingly more difficult to do with nothing but an infinite view of blue in all directions. I was sorely tempted to pray to Nocturnal for some incredible stroke of luck.

* * *

A loud roar snapped me out of my coma-like state. Another week had passed by and the last scraps of food and potions were long gone. A few days ago I chose to enter a deep sleep to preserve strength, while sending Odahviing a continuous stream of health and stamina. An improvised Healing Hands spell, one could say, to ensure our extended survival. However, it now seems a new problem has arisen.

 _"Dovahkiin, something is invading my mind! I am losing control of my body!"_

The massive red dragon was shaking his head repeatedly as though trying to ward off an annoying insect, at the same time rapidly losing height. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, giving me enough energy to ignore the fact that I am on the verge of mental and physical collapse. I racked my brain for any information on mind magic, but unfortunately the experience I had was mostly restricted to illusion spells and encounters with Daedra. At this point my only remaining option is attacking the source, but that is easier said than done without first knowing its whereabouts. Almost as an answer to my unasked question; underneath the water a dark figure could be seen approaching us, features distorted by the ocean. It appeared immense in size, matching Odahviing's body in width and far exceeding it in length. Nonetheless, no amount of forewarning had me prepared for what happened next. An enormous jaw, wide enough to swallow a horse and filled with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, broke out of the surface. As if that were not enough, the rest of the beast followed suit. An angular head, full of tendrils, attached to a monstrous snake-like body which wormed its way through the waves, quickly closed in on us. I could tell the creature would attempt to snatch us out of the air when we got close enough. In a desperate endeavor to save our lives I took a deep breath and shouted;

 ** _"Gol Hah Dov!"_**

Usually this shout simply bends the will of whomever it is used upon, making the target receptive to my commands. This monster on the other hand, was seemingly capable of combating its effects. What ensued was a battle of willpower; my struggle to dominate the monster's psyche pitted against its efforts to resist me. I felt a tug on my mind, slowly growing stronger for each passing second. Fortunately the shout was not entirely without function; the being's attention was now focused on me instead of my dragon partner. Regrettably, what was once a dull headache soon became a raging migraine. My head felt like it was being split in two, and just as Odahviing fully regained control and took off back into the sky - narrowly avoiding the sea-serpent's bite - I slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the distinct lack of motion I had become associated with after three weeks of non-stop flying. Realizing what this must mean I immediately got up and opened my eyes, and was elated to see several acres of glorious land. My excitement soon made way for curiosity, as I took in the wildlife. The plants were exotic; trees and bushes far different from anything in Skyrim, not to mention the odd animals roaming about the place. I decided to explore the place and look for something to eat; Odahviing was probably already out hunting. Not that I can blame him, a dragon his size living on nothing but scraps and magic for three weeks is not easy. A sharp chattering interrupted my musings, and as I turned around two shadows flew past me. The chattering resumed, and looking towards the origin of the sound, what were previously shadows had now turned into large, owl-like creatures. Perplexed, I could only stare at them, taking in their mottled faces and barbed plumes. They were obviously magical in nature, but seemed harmless, a point further proven when the birds screeched before suddenly vanishing in a wisp of smoke. Believing them to have left in fear of me I continued my exploration, missing the large shape slowly approaching me from behind. Said shape moved swiftly, gliding silently across the ground, and I noticed it far too late to be able to defend myself. The sheer absurdity and monstrosity of this new being also added to my unresponsiveness. In front of me stood a huge snail, as large as a giant frostbite spider. A timely intervention by a certain dragon dropping down from the sky halted the snail in its tracks, whereby it was lifted into the air by a pair of strong jaws and slammed into the rocky terrain. The subsequent stream of fire removed any doubt of whether or not it had survived, cooking it thoroughly and surprisingly leaving a rather pleasant aroma. Or perhaps that was my empty stomach speaking for me. A booming laughter from Odahviing caught my attention; of course, he would mock me for nearly succumbing to death by snail.

 _"_ _I was hunting that thing for ages, but it kept slithering out of my reach. You make fine bait, Thuri! Perhaps you could assist me again in the future?"_

We began digging into the remains of the snail, draconic sniggers still heard once in a while making me grumble in frustration.

* * *

With my hunger sated, and near-death experiences having ceased for over half an hour now, I had time to actually catch up with recent events. As such, several questions presented themselves; what happened? What is this place? How did we survive? I decided to ask my rude friend, who was currently having trouble swallowing the last pieces of shell still stuck in his teeth.

Odahviing turned to face me with a thoughtful expression, before answering;

 _"I am not entirely certain, my own memories are slightly clouded. I recall you losing consciousness during our encounter with that animal, and that I spotted a star-shaped island soon thereafter. Anything past that point is unclear; all I remember is waking up and feeling strangely refreshed, famished yet stronger than before. You were still unconscious, so I left to look around for a while."_

I nodded, pondering the dragon's words. In truth, this only raised more questions. However now was not the time to dwell on that, as a slight itching made way throughout my body. My state of discomfort must have shown itself, because Odahviing noticed.

 _"Ah, so you're affected as well. I believe something in the air is causing it, perhaps connected to the ruined city I found a couple of leagues from here. The place looks like a deserted battlefield, however what surprised me the most was the size of the ruins, almost as though they were made to accommodate…dragons. Regardless, we must leave this island soon. I have no intention of finding out what happens if we breathe this air for too long."_

I silently agreed, although the prospect of dragons existing here as well was interesting to say the least.

* * *

After killing another snail that tried to get the drop on us, and packing down the meat, I was preparing to mount Odahviing so we could depart. The great red dragon unfurled his wings and with a powerful flap we were airborne. Just as we both tore our eyes from the island we left, and looked towards the sea, a distant voice echoed in my head;

 _"_ _Alagaesia…continent…east…"_

The voice faded as promptly as it arose. Someone or something was attempting to guide us, for what purpose, I did not know. In any case, it was much better than merely flying wherever the wind brought us, as was our original plan. Which, by the way, considering we nearly died, turned out not to be such a good idea. I relayed the event to Odahviing, who grunted an affirmative, and changed directions. Gazing upon the horizon, I could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. I felt it in my heart, _this_ was our true destination.

* * *

Yup, you guessed it, the hidden Eldunari decided to help out a little. The itching is due to the "invisible poison" after that elf blew himself up during the battle on Vroengard. Hope you liked the encounters with some of the native creatures, like the Nidwhal and Snalgli. Next time Ysmir and Odahviing will be arriving in Alagaesia, and just in the nick of time... Until then, have a great week!

Gol Hah Dov - Earth Mind Dragon  
Thuri - Overlord (Ysmir took Alduin's place in dragon hierarchy)


	3. Arrival in Alagaesia!

Hi again! I know this chapter took a bit longer to get posted, but I was really busy with studies and just didn't have much time to write. I hope I made up for it by having it be a bit longer, even though I said the first three would be short! Anyway, without further ado, Chapter 3!

* * *

Alagaesia, as it turns out, seems to be rather similar to my old home. As far as war goes, that is. The continent is plagued by civil war; a small group of rebels fighting against the oppressive Empire. Contrary to Skyrim though, this Empire's figurehead, Galbatorix, appears to be truly evil; a mastermind ruling from the shadows by instilling fear and misery in his subjects. At least, that is what I have been able to divine from observing the locals during my few reconnaissance stops. Odahviing and I first spotted the coastline a couple of days ago, and soon thereafter the city of Teirm. It was large, about the size of Solitude, but had a decidedly larger population. The walls surrounding the entire city would have made entering undetected impossible, if not for my nifty invisibility spell. Oddly enough, I noticed the spoken language sounds like a derivative of Ehlnofex, very similar to Cyrodilic yet with some differences here and there. Most importantly however, it was understandable, and rather easy to replicate. Perhaps the natives of Alagaesia are in fact descended from ancient Tamrielic emigrants. In any case, it was definitely food for thought.

Having restocked on supplies and moved on, my next stop was Dras-Leona; a town far more sinister in nature. Unlike Teirm, it was less organized; the buildings a tangled mess, consisting mainly of wood and overlooking narrow streets. Apparently slavery was an established business there, and many of the inhabitants harbored an odd devotion to a nearby mountain named Helgrind. The religious cult itself was reclusive and I could not find out much about them apart from their practices of self-mutilation and cannibalism. I left that place rather quickly.

The more time I spent travelling and learning about this new continent, the more obvious it became that my purpose here is to make a difference in the war. The realization weighed heavily on my mind; I was of course hoping for new challenges, but the prospect of having to fight even more battles was not very appealing. True, I am a Nord and a warrior at heart, but a man can only take so much bloodshed in his life. I did not think much of it at the time, but the amount of dragons I slaughtered now saddens me immensely. In all honesty, it was not that far from genocide. Not to mention the deaths of so many of Skyrim's citizens; Imperials and Stormcloaks perishing at the hands of the other despite fighting for what was essentially the same cause; their homeland. I know it is always easy to recognize the right course of action after an event has happened, but I cannot help speculating what might have been if Skyrim as a whole had stood up against our true enemies, the Thalmor.

We are currently soaring over a vast desert, the Hadarac Desert, if I remember correctly from the map I "borrowed" back in Dras-Leona. Usually I would not steal items, but I believe in this situation exceptions are allowed, especially when the item in question was so conveniently laying about. After hearing rumors of activities going on near the Beor Mountains; presumably a large group of people leaving the area, I wanted to have a look for myself. Not being a stranger to the preludes of warfare, I can only assume that it is an evacuation of some kind. The fact that the mountains allegedly house many dwarves and humans on odds with the Empire makes my assumption all the more credible. A while back, and after a heated discussion with Odahviing, we agreed to aid the rebels whenever the opportunity arose. That being said, we were also determined to not deliberately seek out dangers and conflicts; a decision which would promptly fly out the window.

* * *

 **Farthen Dûr**

"It has begun" Arya said; a sad expression on her face.

Indeed, Urgals could be heard approaching the tunnel's opening. Eragon could not help but pity them as they were boiled alive and lit on fire by the pitch poured over them. He knew it had to be done, but it seemed unnecessarily cruel. This would only momentarily halt the stream of Urgals, and soon they had tamped the pitch down and proceeded to invade the surface. The Varden's archers readied their bows and let loose a swarm of arrows, breaking the enemy's line, if only for a second. When the next set of arrows rained down upon them however, they were prepared, shielding themselves while slowly pushing forward. Eventually, the Urgals breached the Varden's defense, and the two armies collided in full. As if on cue, Saphira took off, leaping at the nearest Urgal and tearing him apart with her jaws. Eragon sat firmly on her back, warding off any attacks aimed at her unprotected parts. Almost subconsciously, he noticed Arya swiftly darting between her foes; gleaming dagger in hand, leaving a trail of bodies behind her. On the other side of the battlefield, Orik was efficiently disposing of his adversaries, chopping them down with his axe. Beside him was Murtagh, mounted on his steed Tornac, furiously cutting down anyone unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

This would not last long however. The Varden fought well, but it did not take long for them to realize they were fighting a losing battle. Sheer numbers began to overwhelm them, something which became clearer as the campaign went on. The soldiers thinned out; the few that remained spread across the battlefield amongst hordes of Urgals. Saphira had received several wounds from spears and lances, having been separated from her Rider due to the tide of battle. Arya was fending off multiple opponents and she was clearly tiring, despite her considerable stamina. Regardless of their valiant efforts, they were beginning to lose hope. And that was when it happened. The skies darkened, and a tremendous roar tore through the cries of men and Urgals. All fighting ceased instinctively, as every being present turned to the origin of the noise. The sight presenting itself would remain etched into their minds for a very long time. Above them, descending rapidly in a skydive, was a massive red dragon; its form blocking out the sunlight. Perched upon its neck sat a man, fully clad in an armor of bones, sword in one hand and a condensed ball of magic in the other.

Eragon was shocked still, panic rising within him, as his first thought was of Galbatorix. However when the dragon approached, jaws wide open, and let loose a huge stream of fire on the large groups of Urgals, his mind reeled. That was also when he remembered Galbatorix' dragon supposedly had black scales, not red. _Another Rider_ , he thought elatedly. Perhaps all was not yet lost.

Arya was in a daze, the impossibility in front of her rendering her irresponsive. _How can this be? The Riders are gone, except for-_ she quickly banished the observation, not wanting to risk that secret's discovery in case anyone was listening in on her undetected, unlikely as that may be.

" ** _Mid Vur Shaan_** ".

A deep bellow interrupted her train of thought, and a wave of magic surged through her body, filling her with lost energy and to her surprise even enhancing her already formidable speed and strength. Looking around she noticed the remaining Varden soldiers also appeared to be restored to peak condition, and now easily, though confusedly, commenced dispatching their bewildered and frightened opponents.

Barely having time to process what just happened, a nervous voice invaded Eragon's consciousness.

 _"There are loud noises under Tronjheim. It sounds like Urgals are trying to dig into the city! We need you and Arya to collapse any tunnels they're excavating"._

He identified the voice as belonging to one of the Twins, and relayed the message to Saphira and Arya. After finding Arya, both of them left to meet up with the blue dragoness. Upon reaching her, a heavy thud shook the ground, and the Alagaesians took in the newest addition to the arena up close. Saphira could not take her eyes off the colossal dragon in front of her. Through the bond, Eragon felt the flood of emotions taking hold of her. He also happily took note that her wounds had been healed as well. The armored man merely gazed down upon them, as if evaluating their worth. His features were hidden by the heavy armor he wore, but he was undoubtedly tall, with broad shoulders. Medium length black hair could be seen sticking out behind parts of his helmet, as well as piercing green eyes. The trance that had settled over them was broken when a howling Urgal came running at Saphira, intent on smashing her chest with his axe. The horned beast never reached its target however, as the newcomer raised his left arm and let loose a burst of lightning from his hand, disintegrating the Urgal into a pile of dust. They could only stare in awe and disbelief; he did not use an incantation! Their shock multiplied when the red dragon actually opened his maw and physically spoke.

" ** _Drem yol lok, joore_** **.** Might I ask why you are leaving the battle?"

The stupefied trio were stunned silent for a moment, before Arya finally responded.

"We recieved information of an impending attack from beneath the mountains. You are free to join us if you wish."

The dragon shared a look with his partner, before he turned back to Arya.

"Which of you has the most skill and experience in battle?" he asked.

The elf glanced briefly at Eragon and answered.

"That would be me".

For the first time since his arrival, the mysterious man spoke up, his voice rough and hoarse as though not used often.

"Then you will lead the way. Your companions shall stay behind to aid the other warriors".

His tone was final, leaving no room for discussion. Arya acknowledged the logic; Eragon and Saphira could definitely help end the conflict faster, as well as bolster morale. The two in question however, seemed to disagree, but whatever Eragon was about to say was cut off by the other Rider who seemed to have grown impatient.

"There is no time for squabbles, lead the way, **_Fahliil_** ".

Arya gasped in surprise as she was grabbed and hoisted up onto the neck of the red dragon, who then pushed off the ground, leaving behind a flabbergasted Rider and dragon.

Under Arya's guidance, Odahviing soon found the dragonhold of Tronjheim, and dropped his two passengers off on Isidar Mithrim, before returning the way they came. At the elven woman's inquisitive look, the Dragonborn explained.

"He is returning to the battlefield, there isn't enough space for him here".

"Oh, of course" came her sheepish reply; she had neglected to take into consideration that the new dragon was much larger than Saphira, and would not be able to accompany them.

"I'm Ysmir, by the way", the man said with a brief smile.

"Arya, pleased to meet you. Come now, we must hurry, the stairs to the bottom are this way".

Upon reaching the stairs, Ysmir realized it would take long to get all the way down on foot. He glanced to his new companion.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

The elf stared at him blankly.

"I'm afraid not, I don't even know you".

"Well, you'd better start trusting".

And then he grabbed her for the second time, heaving her over his shoulders before jumping down the steep mountain.

Arya immensely regretted accompanying this madman here. At this point, all she wanted was to stand safely on her feet again. Instead, she felt the wind blowing past her face, whipping her hair around and stinging her eyes. They were steadily picking up speed, falling freely through the air. Were it not so uncivilized, she might actually have considered pounding on the lunatic's back. As it was though, they had a more pressing matter to attend to. The ground was rapidly approaching, and Arya readied herself to use magic to halt their fall. That turned out to be unnecessary, when the madman muttered a spell of his own.

" ** _Feim_** ".

The foreign words unknown to her; she had no idea what to expect. It was certainly not the tingling feeling spreading outwards from her chest, as her form became translucent and light as a feather. Amazed, she watched Ysmir's landing; the fall not hurting them in the least. Noticing she was still instinctively clinging to his back, she quickly released him, standing up on her own. An awkward moment passed between them, before both spoke up at the same time.

"So-", and immediately fell silent again.

Arya was the first to break the second awkward pause.

"Lets look for those tunnels, shall we?".

Ysmir nodded dumbly.

* * *

No signs of tunnels showed themselves however, and the two became ever more puzzled. Just as Arya suspected the Twins had been up to something, a rumble emanated from the ground. The entire mountain started to shake; tremors increasing in intensity until suddenly an explosion blew away part of the floor underneath them. A shadow could be seen nearing the exit of the newly created tunnel, and they prepared themselves, drawing their weapons. As the shadow drew closer, they noticed it was not a group of Urgals, as they had expected. Not even a single one. What appeared was something far worse, and more powerful. Stepping into the light, the figure revealed itself to be a tall, slim man, with crimson hair and maroon eyes. It was Durza.

The Shade advanced slowly, blade and shield in hand. His eyes glazing dementedly over the people standing in front of him. His gaze settled on Arya, and he spoke mockingly.

"A pleasure to see you again, my dear. Your presence in Gil'ead has been missed". Here his expression turned feral.

"It was thoughtful of you to return to me, fate must have declared you were always meant to be under my care".

Arya stiffened, unbidden memories of her capture replaying themselves.

"I had not expected your new friend to be here however. Would you care to introduce us?" he continued.

Ysmir stepped forward, before she had a chance to reply.

"So, Daedra roam this continent as well, spreading chaos at every turn. Why am I not surprised? I pity the summoner who succumbed to you, now his soul will never rest".

Durza inhaled sharply, looking at him in shock.

"How do you know of our origins? Impossible! Explain!".

Arya shifted her sight back and forth between the two men confusedly. _What is Ysmir talking about?_.

"That is for me to know, and for you to hopefully never find out. Prepare to be banished".

The Shade - now identified Daedra, had no time to react when a purple light hit him squarely in the chest. A horrible screech left his throat; his body giving a violent shiver as a dark orb exited his open mouth before dissipating into nothingness.

Durza stood still, head lowered, not even giving a hint of motion; elf and Nord eying him warily. All of a sudden his back arched; blood-red eyes gleaming furiously once again. A terrible look of hatred overtook his face, and he growled.

"Did you really think that would be enough to destroy me? We are many".

With that the Shade dashed forward, catching Ysmir off guard and nicking him in the arm with his blade. Not being one to stand idly by, Arya leapt at Durza's unguarded side, knocking him over, while the Dragonborn caught his breath from the unexpected assault. Ignoring the sharp pain, he steadied himself, and summoned the power of his dragon soul.

" ** _Mul Qah Diiv_** ".

Ethereal wings and armor formed around him, giving his already intimidating armor an even more fearsome and draconic appearance. The surge of power almost overwhelmed him; eyes blazing yellow and energy radiating from every inch of his frame. This did not go unnoticed by Durza, who had managed to shake off his attacker; a hard shove sending the elf crashing into the wall opposite him. He looked cautiously at Ysmir, not knowing what this new development entailed. Caution gave way to fear however, as in the blink of an eye a fist slammed into his face, disorienting him. Given no time to counter, a sword then struck his chestplate, knocking him down with incredible force. Staggered, he noticed incredulously that his armor had been caved in, damaging his stomach and affecting his breathing. _Such strength and speed is beyond a mere mortal human. Just what is he?_ Barely catching the Dragonborn's next strike on his shield, the Shade stretched out his sword arm and prepared to retaliate.

"Thrysta vindr!" he yelled.

Arya could hardly believe her eyes. After recovering from her crash, she saw from the corner of her eye how a glowing Ysmir began making short work of the Shade. He was _toying_ with a _Shade._ In any case, she composed herself, getting ready to rejoin the fight. This proved to be a wise course of action, when Durza sent his enemy flying with a burst of magic. She had an idea of what the evil creature would do next, and from the look of concentration on his face her fears were about to be confirmed. He was invading Ysmir's mind. Not knowing whether he could handle the assault or not, she devised a plan of distraction. Unfortunately, the dwarves would probably never let her hear the end of it. Pointing her palm skyward; a brilliant green light enveloped her hand.

"Jierda" she whispered.

Durza watched triumphantly as the man before him clutched his temple, in agony from the mental probe. It seemed the mighty warrior had little experience dealing with battles of this kind. Sadistically twisting and ripping at every stray thought and emotion he could find, the Shade dug deeper into the abyss of memories. While he was occupied with gleefully inflicting as much pain as possible, he failed to take note of the slight pressure building up in intensity. He was completely unprepared for the subsequent blast forcing his consciousness back into his own body, as hundreds of screaming entities were let loose from the depths of his opponent's mind; shrieks of " ** _Krii_** " and " ** _Dovahkiin_** " still echoing in his head. Durza regained his senses just in time to see the elf release a spell towards the ceiling. Tracking the magical orb's path, he noticed with anger and frustration that it would hit and shatter the massive gem suspended above them. The spell made contact with the Star Sapphire; a loud crack resonating throughout the chamber, accompanied by a blinding flash of light.

Ysmir felt like his head had ruptured; the hundreds of dragon souls he had consumed now set free, their cries reverberating in his mind. Remembering the situation at hand, he gripped the pommel of his sword tightly; the dragon aspect still enhancing his strength. A short distance away he observed the Shade covering his eyes as though blinded. When Arya yelled "Through the heart, now!", he did not hesitate.

" ** _Wuld_** "

Ysmir propelled himself forward, seemingly disappearing and reappearing in front of his target, and buried the dragonbone blade deep in Durza's chest, piercing his heart.

* * *

So, I hope you liked the chapter! I know I changed a lot of things, Ysmir is the Shadeslayer now! Well, that is, if Durza really dies… And yup, spirits are Daedra! The banishing didn't work since a Shade is made up of several spirits, and only one was affected. The absorbed dragon souls still live! Don't worry, it'll all be explained in due time. Also, think I planted the seeds for an eventual, possible, Ysmir/Arya (way in the future though), and changed my writer's perspective. It felt better this way as the story progresses and more characters are involved. I had actually planned on doing that, and the reason I wrote from the Dragonborn's point of view during the first chapters was for you to be able to understand him a little better; his personality, the way he thinks and so on. As you might have noticed, I'm trying to portray him as intelligent and quiet, mostly speaking when spoken to unless in the heat of battle. He is also slightly colder towards people he doesn't know. Do you agree with this? Or would you prefer a chattier Ysmir? Do you have any opinions about pairings? And yes, I know the dragons of Tamriel aren't that big, but honestly, who cares? The Twins' little message to Eragon is a direct quote from the book, just saying, so I don't get accused of stuff. Didn't really see the need to rewrite that. See you soon!

 ** _Mid Vur Shaan_** \- Loyal Valor Inspire (Battle Fury)

 ** _Drem yol lok_** \- Peace fire sky (A way of greeting)

 ** _Joore_** \- Mortals

 ** _Fahliil -_** Elf

 ** _Feim_** \- Fade (Become Ethereal)

 ** _Mul Qah Diiv -_** Strength Armor Wyrm (Dragon Aspect)

 ** _Krii -_** Kill

 ** _Wuld -_** Whirlwind

Thrysta vindr - Compress the air

Jierda - Break


	4. A Return to Form

I bet you all thought I was dead! I'm not!

I don't know how to even begin apologizing for this two-year delay, but basically, life came in the way. I had just begun higher education and didn't have much time to devote to writing fanfiction. Fortunately things have panned out, and I've fallen into a nice little pace where free time and studies have a working relationship once again. That being said, I think I've proven that consistent updates aren't my forte, so don't take anything for granted.

What I have had time to do, however, is think about your reviews and the direction I want this story to go in. Summarized shortly, these are the decisions I've made in regards to what you've commented:

\- Story will be written from Ysmir's POV at 99% of times.

\- There will be no Ysmir/Arya pairing, but quite a bit of interaction between the two nonetheless. After a moment's consideration, I wholeheartedly agree that Eragon/Arya is too central a thing for me to omit just like that. For those of you who wanted that, don't fret, Ysmir has quite an epic romance revelation coming his way! As far as I know, it's never been done before either...

There are some more things I've been thinking about, but nothing I want to spoil just yet. In any case, here's the long awaited Chapter 4!

* * *

Durza's terrible shriek of pain and anger echoed against the walls of the chamber, tearing their way through my ears relentlessly. I glanced up through my helmet at the abomination I had just impaled, watching as its already pale visage began turning translucent. With a violent yank, I freed my blade from the heart of its victim.

Durza staggered backwards, falling to his knees and covering his wound with his hands. He looked at me with such anger and hatred, that despite being my enemy, I was taken aback. Perhaps it was his human resemblance that made the expression all that more horrifying.

Two swirling patterns of darkness appeared within the now fully transparent body, pulsating with greater intensity for each second that passed. Knowing these entities to be Daedra, I backed away warily, coming to a halt when bumping into Arya.

The elf briefly met my eyes with a look of shock, as though she could not believe what had just transpired. I would have been inclined to feel the same way, were it not for my many experiences, plenty of which eclipsed even this occurrence.

The Daedra seemed to grow more frantic in their movements, and suddenly, Durza's entire body shattered like glass. Acting on instinct, I quickly raised my palm and sent twin orbs of magic in the direction of the evil spirits, banishing them back to Oblivion before they caused any more harm.

"It's over", Arya breathed, with a tone of finality that conveyed more relief than decisiveness. I followed her gaze as she looked upward, and noticed that the bright red gem had been completely rent apart. Whomever the jewel belonged to would undoubtedly be appropriately miffed.

I nodded, more to myself than Arya. "Yes, it's over. For now".

Arya swiveled around to face me with more energy than I suspected she still possessed. "What do you mean, 'for now'?".

Recalling her shock when I first declared Durza a Daedra, I realized the people of Alagaesia must be ignorant of their existence. It was a terrifying thought, to be sure, for such beings to be able to prowl amongst mortals who were none the wiser.

Stepping carefully, so as to avoid crushing any remnants of the gem which had landed on the floor, I placed some distance between myself and the elf. My eyes roamed over the hall, searching for a way out, while I pondered the best way to answer her question.

"The Daedra are immortal beings that reside in another plane of existence. They cannot be killed, merely defeated, and are capable of returning to this realm if summoned".

Arya scoffed, an action which did not seem to befit her mannerisms. "That sounds utterly ridiculous".

I shook my head lightly. "Believe what you will. We must rejoin the battle outside". The elf was stubborn, like the rest of her kind, but she would eventually see the truth. Anyone who came into contact with me did, for better or for worse.

We were approaching the long stairs leading back up to the now ruined dragonhold, when the sharp pain I had felt earlier in my head returned tenfold. Clutching my temples desperately, I was unable to contain a gasp of agony. The combined voices of hundreds of dragons had me stumbling forward, their roars and screams setting me off balance.

"Ysmir! Are you alright?", Arya exclaimed in concern, hurrying to my side to shake me by the shoulder.

"No", I responded truthfully. "But I will endure".

Once I somewhat regained my senses, we hurried our way back to the battlefield. Hopefully, Durza's destruction would prove beneficial, if for no other reason than strengthening morale.

* * *

It did more than strengthen morale. Somehow, the entire urgal army had been set into complete disarray. Some had retreated, while others turned against themselves, yet most simply stood in confusion as if their surroundings were altogether new to them.

The Varden, while perplexed by seeing their enemies in shambles, made short work of the few who continued fighting. When Arya and I rejoined the soldiers, raining down deadly blasts of magic from atop the back of Odahviing, it had completely seized to be a battle. It was a massacre.

The combined might of an entire army, two dragons and their respective riders, as well as an elf proved too much for the urgals. What little remained of their ranks scattered and fled, heading back to the tunnels from whence they came.

It was like looking at a mirror of myself, I figured, watching as the sandy-blond young man leaned down to slash at a group of urgals once his sapphire dragon descended in a steep dive; deadly blue flames pouring out of her wide maw. The pair chased many of their fleeing enemies, lighting as many tunnels aflame as they could and mercilessly cooking any urgals unfortunate enough to be trapped inside.

Novices or not, it was a fearsome sight to behold. If the duo had been fighting this way ever since I left, their deeds would no doubt be sung of for many years to come. Cheers began resounding amidst the roars of battle and clashes of steel, as they often did whenever war reached its end. It had always appeared ironic to me, for bloodshed and death to be immediately followed by joy and elation.

Odahviing touched down on bloodstained soil with a loud thud, sending shockwaves through the ground with enough intensity to produce large cracks. He reared his head and let out a triumphant roar.

 **"We have won, Thuri! Tonight I shall dine on urgal meat!"**

Arya quickly hopped off my crazed dragon's back, no doubt wanting to put some space between herself and Odahviing after his proclamation. Being far more used to his antics, I merely chuckled.

"You've never had that kind before, have you?", I asked. He should not have, but I would not put it past my friend to indulge in a light snack, even in the heat of battle.

Several of the Varden's soldiers had aggregated around us, much as they did around the other dragon, who had landed a couple of feet away. They looked upon us with wonder and awe, and not a small amount of bewilderment. I suddenly remembered, that in this land, dragons did not speak out loud.

 **"Indeed not. I am hoping the taste will prove equally succulent to the appearance"** , Odahviing responded, and it took a great deal of self-control for me to not gag at the thought. I too, then, got off my partner's back, and proceeded to take in my surroundings.

Bodies littered the ground, stretching as far as the eye could see. I had witnessed worse, of course, but it was nothing to be taken lightly. It was difficult to find a patch of soil not colored red, and when listening carefully, the chants of victory only barely managed to drown out wails of pain, sorrow and despair.

The cacophony did nothing to dull the throbbing in my head, and the souls I had consumed never seemed to cease their howling. My awareness of the matter grew greater with each step I took; the pain pounding in rhythm with my gait. Consciousness would soon lose its hold on me, something I knew for certain.

The only thing left for me to do was make sure I would not lay senseless amongst people I did not know. I approached Arya with wavering strides, grateful at the fact that any soldiers in my way hastily made to move out of it.

The elf had hurried to the other rider's side, and from what my rapidly blurring sight could tell me, they seemed to be inspecting the slender, blue dragon. The boy was first to notice my arrival, and the widening of his eyes caused everyone to face me.

My last thought was that it must have looked suitably embarrassing when I toppled over, face meeting the ground with a painful thump.

* * *

"Wake up", a soft voice encouraged.

Not even my foray with Sanguine had resulted in a hangover as bad as this. My body felt unbelievably tense, as though every muscle had the independent need to contract as much as possible. The pain in my head was too unbearable to even think of, not that I had any desire to do so.

"Wake up!", a slightly deeper voice persisted, and I attempted to open my eyes. It was to no avail however, as they appeared to resist with overwhelming force. It felt so tempting to simply return to sleep, giving up what little awareness that had returned to me.

 **"Desist this pointless resting at once!"**

I shot out of bed, for that was where I had been laying, apparently, with vigor that only an unpredictable scare could incite. The soft voice turned out to be not so soft at all, and belonged to a very irritated dragon. A dragon which had poked his scaled and horned head through the wall behind my bed, and now loomed rather ominously above me.

"Odahviing", I deadpanned, facing the hulking, red beast.

 **"So you live. I was beginning to hope you might have died, upon which I would of course assume the mantle of Thuri and freely slaughter any and all in my path".**

I could not help but laugh out loud. "I'm grateful for your concern, old friend".

The dragon let out a puff of smoke from his nostrils, in what I concluded to be an indignant huff, but did not contradict my words. Thankfully, the pain in my head subsided slightly, now that I had risen to my feet.

"I trust your dragon won't actually act on those words, should you ever perish in our care?", a stern voice called out from across my room. I turned to face the source of the sound, and came face to face with a young, curly-haired woman, who was sat in a nearby chair. Her personality then took a sudden turn, and a large smile broke out across her face.

"I'm Angela! It's so nice to finally speak with you. And my, you're quite the handsome one!", she gushed. Before I even had the chance to respond, she pressed on. "I've been watching you sleep for quite some time, under your companion's… watchful… gaze. But enough of that! You have to tell me everything! Who are you? Where are you from? Are you a Dragon Rider?", she asked in an endless barrage.

Luckily, someone chastised the young woman, giving me a brief minute of respite. "Angela, allow the poor man a few moments to gather his bearings, yes?".

I looked to see a rather regally clad lady stride through the doorway, hands held at her sides. She instantly reminded me of Saadia, someone I had not thought of in a long time. Two familiar faces appeared beside her, Arya and the boy, which was enough to put me at ease.

The redguard-in-appearance walked up to me unperturbed, somehow managing to emit an aura of authority despite her small stature. She met my gaze unflinchingly, and seemed to search for something behind the veil of my eyes. For her sake, I hope she does not dig too deeply.

The woman reached out her arm, and I eventually grasped it with my own. "I'm Nasuada, leader of the Varden", she stated.

"Ysmir", I replied, and gave a nod toward the distinctly dragon-made hole in the wall. "And that's Odahviing".

Something about the way Nasuada held herself seemed odd to me. She possessed confidence, that much was obvious, but there was a certain stiffness about her which betrayed a great amount of inner turmoil.

We let go of each other's hands, and a moment later, the atmosphere changed entirely. Gone was the tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife. The young boy who had stood silently smiled widely and approached me.

"I never believed there would be another Rider out there! Where have you been all this time?", he began excitedly, but then paused. "I've not introduced myself, have I? I'm Eragon, and my partner you saw outside is Saphira".

After a solid grasp of arms, I returned the introduction, and felt the need to ask a question of my own.

"Where am I?".

* * *

So this was the city of Tronjheim, I mused, running my hand over the intricately carved walls of the city beneath the mountains. It was the work of dwarves, which I found interesting, seeing as the architecture was distinctly different from any dwemer ruins I had previously wandered. Then again, as I recently found out, the dwarves of Alagaesia differed greatly from the legends told in Tamriel.

It also came as a great surprise that I had been unconscious for days. It was also with a certain degree of unease that I learned my armor had been stripped off, my body washed, and a new, temporary outfit provided for me. What worried me was not the possible confiscation of my possessions, but the fact that an unknown number of people had seen me in the nude. The sheer amount of scars littering my limbs, back and torso tended to put people off, or bring up many unwanted inquiries.

At the moment, I was clad in simple brown trousers and boots, with a plain white undershirt covering my chest. It was a welcome change from heavy armor, and the comfort of easily moving my hands and legs made up for the lack of protection. For the time being, at least.

"So, what do you think of our city?", Orik asked; the dwarf who had appointed himself my guide proudly straightening his short back. Eragon and Arya had also taken to following us, explaining that as heroes of battle we had a duty to appear in public. It turned out that my fellow Rider had garnered as great a reputation as I had, having claimed the highest head-count amongst all of the Varden's warriors.

"It's magnificent", I replied sincerely, to which the dwarf nodded appreciatively. His expression then turned sullen, and his tone grew somber.

"Aye, 'tis so", he agreed. "Yet Tronjheim will not be itself until Isidar Mithrim is whole once again".

I was told more of the great gem they called the Star Sapphire, and noticed how Arya discreetly shuffled her hands in discomfort at the mention. Perhaps I was the odd one, but it always seemed strange how people insisted on holding such devotion to mere objects, beautiful though they may be. Of all things to place value in, why choose something finite - something that would eventually wear and wither - something with no substance beyond its tangibility?

It made no sense, and I worded my thought to Orik. The way his facial muscles contorted into horrified outrage, as though I had just viciously insulted him, was rather entertaining. The dwarf made it certain to me, that under no circumstance, was the gem to be considered a mere object. It represented the epitome of dwarven craftsmanship, and had served as an inspiration to every living being for millennia.

"It must be reassuring to know it'll be restored to its former glory, then", I said, referencing Orik's earlier tale of how Saphira had vowed to mend the broken jewel, to which the dwarf nodded. The dragon's generosity astounded me, and there was no doubt in my mind that she had lifted a great burden from Arya's shoulders.

We slowly reached the end of one of the four main hallways, coming to a crossroads of sorts. Many pairs of curious eyes trailed our company as we walked, most notably those of children pointing at us, subsequently being reprimanded by their mothers with a hush. I recall a time when people would stare and mutter; whispers of 'Dragonborn' following me wherever I went.

Now, instead, they would whisper 'Shadeslayer'.

Eragon snickered in good humor, most likely noticing my light cringe at the title. "Not enjoying your newfound fame, Ysmir?", he asked.

I harrumphed. The boy was being cheeky again. If there was something I had learned about my fellow Rider, it was that he relished in trifling banter. "It doesn't fit me", I retorted. "Eragon Shadeslayer has a much better ring to it, wouldn't you say?".

The corner of my lips twitched when his cheeks became tinged with red. He was a good lad.

Arya stepped in front of us once we came to a halt, just before the first steps of a large staircase leading up the mountain city. "Ysmir", she said sharply, drawing my attention, her expression stoic as usual. "Nasuada asked for you to meet with her, once your tour came to an end. She wishes to discuss the continued partnership between yourself and the Varden".

A reasonable request, I figured.

The elf then turned to Eragon, piercing him with her sharp, slanted eyes; their shade of green reminding me of my own.

"You were requested to join the meeting as well", she added. "Now, if that is all, I have other business to attend to". With a small inclination of her head, she left, leaving me standing with only Eragon and Orik.

The dwarf shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever understand elves", he mumbled. It was a sentiment I had shared until only a few years ago. They were not so different from any other race, once you got past their seemingly inherited predisposition for haughtiness.

Orik then looked up the endless flight of stairs and sighed. "We have a long trek ahead of us", he said dejectedly. For the duration of our hike, a single thought gnawed at my mind - the possibility that Arya had deliberately left us, to avoid the pain of climbing these accursed stairs.

If so, she had certainly made the right choice, and a clever one at that. No one would even dare to consider the elf of doing such a thing.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, despite it being more calm in nature to the previous ones. My idea was to use it to establish budding relationships and as a way to build up the upcoming travel to Ellesmera. Please leave a review if you have any opinions you'd like to share, and I'll see you again soon!


	5. A New Quest!

Back again! And this time after only half a year, instead of two years like last time... Who knows, if I keep up this exponential decrease between upload times this fic could actually be considered active!

Postive thoughts, positive thoughts. 'Scionofrevan', if you're still reading this, I dare you to find the reference to one of your comments somewhere in the chapter!

As for the rest of you, I hope you enjoy Chapter 5!

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. You're willing to continue aiding us, under the condition that you reserve the right to your independence?" asked Nasuada, with a light frown marring her otherwise soft features.

Eragon and I were seated opposite the leader of the Varden, having been summoned to her study only moments ago. It was obvious the woman had expected more of me and was wary of taking the word of a stranger, despite my actions. I did not blame her, as I would have done the same in her place.

The delicate intricacies of politics were not new to me. After all, I had played a rather large role in Skyrim's civil war, despicable as the conflict was. As a leader, one was forced to look past individuals, which often resulted in seeing one's subjects as little more than means to an end. Should personal feelings come in the way, it could prove every prior effort wasted.

As it was, Nasuada undoubtedly viewed me as a loose cannon; a powerful piece on the board which could change the tide of war in either direction. She was right to make that assumption.

"Just so." I confirmed, amused at having unknowingly adopted the Greybeards' manner of speech. "You already have a Rider, and by extent, a dragon, under your command. That will suffice."

Nasuada's frown deepened, and the intensity of her stare multiplied tenfold. "I understand where you're coming from…" she began placatingly. "…but surely you must see that as leader of the Varden I require a greater degree of assurance?".

We had exchanged words like this for half an hour, by my estimate, and the woman's unwillingness to budge was beginning to irk me. It was with a heavy conscience that I realized the appeal behind Serana's preferred method of persuasion. Throwing illusion spells left and right would certainly make a lot of things easier for me.

Something that bothered me was that Eragon had sworn fealty to Nasuada, in order to circumvent the Council's hold over her. I had shaken my head in exasperation at the boy's foolishness, but eventually conceded to his decision. At the time, it had been the obvious choice to make.

I was about to counter the woman's argument once again, when surprisingly, Eragon decided to interrupt our verbal spout. "Perhaps I can provide an alternative agreeable to both of you?" he interjected.

Nasuada sighed, leaning back in her chair. "By all means. I fear we are only wasting our time as it is."

The boy smiled, placing the palms of his hands against the large desk. He turned to me with a look of confidence I hoped was not unwarranted. "Make a vow in the ancient language, that you will aid the Varden and never intentionally cause us harm. State the opposite in regard to the Empire. Magic will hold you to those words and should be enough to ensure your loyalty."

The simplicity of his idea made it all the more intriguing. I knew little of the Ancient Language, but from what I had gathered, it held great power in Alagaesia. It was impossible to lie whilst speaking it, which meant that any false promises could not be uttered. The only downside was having fate bind one's words through magic, which seemed like something rather dangerous to me, and not to mention open to abuse.

Fortunately, given Nasuada's relaxed shoulders, it appeared to be a viable option as far as she was concerned. "Well, what do you say, Ysmir?" she asked. "Is this acceptable to you?"

Thinking it over momentarily, I figured that making a vow would be relatively harmless, if worded carefully, and nodded.

"As long as I have a say in how this vow is formulated, we have an agreement."

* * *

It all turned out quite nicely, I thought, recalling the events of the last hour. Of course, it took a bit of banter, and both the inclusion and exclusion of certain clauses, but all in all, the end result was as satisfying to the Varden as it was to me.

Eragon and I found ourselves heading back to our quarters, only to be stopped halfway there by a tall, raven-haired woman. Her eyes shimmered blue, their shade reminding me of the clearest of skies.

"Argetlam, Shadeslayer." she greeted while curtsying to each of us; her tone silky and smooth with mystery.

I confessed myself rather bewildered at the sudden interruption. Eragon, however, had enough presence of mind to respond in a timely fashion. "Can we help you?" he asked, after inclining his head in return.

"Oh, I do hope so. My name is Trianna, and I'm a sorceress of Du Vrangr Gata."

That peaked my curiosity. The term was loosely applied in Tamriel, but most sorcerers tended to dabble in conjuration – much of it obscure at best.

"A sorceress?" I inquired, noticing that Eragon sported a similarly interested expression. The woman brightened, smiling broadly and displaying a set of white, even teeth.

"Yes!" she confirmed, falling into step with us as we made our way slowly down the hall. "Well, that, as well as whatever other kind of mage I am required to be."

She dipped her head dejectedly, looking almost sadly at Eragon and myself. "You see, that's actually why I sought you out. The Varden doesn't have many mages, and with the Twins gone…"

"You need us." I finished, determining the issue at hand. Eragon shuffled nervously from beside me, and it was easy to read the apprehension written across his face. It made sense – the boy was probably not keen on having even more responsibilities thrust upon him.

"That's an… interesting offer." he began hesitantly. "Unfortunately, I'm really busy at the moment. I'm not sure if joining you would be such a great idea."

I caught a flash of anger and disappointment in Trianna's eyes; narrowing my own in response. It vanished quickly, but there was no doubt it had been there. What could possibly warrant such emotion from the sorceress? Surely the rejection of a novice Dragon Rider – someone with next to no knowledge of magic – did not bother her that much?

She turned to me once again. "And what about you, Shadeslayer? Would you be willing to lead us?"

Willing? Not so much. However, if these sorcerers were anything like those in Tamriel, I could not in good conscience allow them to summon Daedra without knowing what they were doing.

"No. I will not lead your group of mages." I replied, subsequently raising my hand to forestall the imminent objection. "However, as far as time allows, I am prepared to share some of my knowledge with you."

Both Eragon and Trianna widened their eyes in shock, clearly not having expected such an answer. The latter was quick to compose herself, though; her face shifting from surprise to giddiness and delight. I ran a hand through my hair exasperatedly, recognizing the similarities between the eager sorceress and a certain apprentice mage at the College of Winterhold. My heart stung briefly with nostalgia, as I recalled the times spent with my three fellow students.

Amusingly, once my reminiscing had finished, I was greeted to the sight of a blushing Eragon, who was staring intently at a golden bracelet on Trianna's wrist. To my fascination, the bracelet was twisting and turning, moving around her arm in a serpentine manner.

We were reaching the end of the hallway, and I spotted the large door which would lead us to the part of the mountain that held our quarters. Eragon's blush had deepened even further, and now, Trianna's brief anger made more sense to me. It took a considerable amount of effort not to laugh at their utterly dreadful attempts at teasing and flirting.

A loud bang had them instantly letting go of each other, and even I momentarily assumed a light crouch. The door had swung open with tremendous force, revealing a ferocious and snarling sapphire dragon.

It was Saphira, and she did not look happy.

* * *

The next few days passed uneventfully. Nasuada had eventually informed everyone residing within Farthen Dûr that she planned to relocate the Varden to Surda; a development which had caused somewhat of a minor frenzy.

As far as I was concerned, it mattered little. Eragon had been instructed to travel to Ellesméra, the capital of the elves, and I was to accompany him. It would not be long before we left, and the young Dragon Rider was apparently being instructed and fitted with equipment at this very moment.

Which brought me back to my current predicament – educating the erratic and unorganized band of mages that constituted Du Vrangr Gata. Upon learning that I would soon be departing, Trianna had harassed me into agreeing to give a lecture before leaving.

It was ironic to be performing my duties as Arch-Mage only now, once outside of Skyrim, when I had never bothered with them before. Then again, at the time, the title had been bestowed upon me out of gratitude and not due to any particular skill.

Fortunately, I had later acquired that skill, and so felt sufficiently confident in my task. I looked over the small group of people that had convened in one of the city-mountain's large chambers, taking in each and every one of their expectant faces. The only one I recognized belonged to Trianna, who was seated to my right.

We had assembled around a long, rectangular table. It was made of stone and seemed to have been carved out of the mountain itself, along with the rest of the room.

"My name is Ysmir." I began, introducing myself. "I have been asked to instruct you in the arcane arts, but before we begin, I would like to know the extent of your knowledge. Tell me, what are the limitations of magic?"

Everyone promptly threw each other nervous glances, reminding me of how all the students at the College would react whenever Master Tolfdir came with an unexpected question. Eventually a young man broke the tense silence.

"Um… That we shouldn't cast spells that require power beyond our physical capabilities?"

I inclined my head only slightly, acknowledging the answer but not confirming it to be correct. As a matter of fact, it was not.

"A common misconception. Magic is an art of the mind, and as such, our potential is limited by what our _minds_ can handle, not our bodies."

At that, Trianna interrupted him almost heatedly. "But, that's the first rule every magician is taught! If you don't have the strength to lift a rock with your arms, don't attempt it with magic!"

I sighed and raised my hands, which adopted a soft, orange glow. A second later and every person in the room found themselves hovering a short distance above the floor, before being gently placed back down into their chairs.

"I could not physically lift all of you at the same time. Yet it is possible with magic."

Trianna's eyes were wide, matching those of her fellow mages. I decided to ignore the flabbergasted expressions in favor of continuing my lecture.

"That is because magic, or Magicka, uses our minds as conduits between the plane of Aetherius and the mortal plane. It is like a muscle, which you must hone and develop through continued use. However, it is true that overexerting your minds by performing a spell beyond your capabilities can result in injury. At worst, even death."

"Y- You didn't use the Ancient Language!"

The exclamation came from the same young man that had answered his first question, and I sighed. The fact that all magic in Alagaesia was bound to this mysterious language was something currently beyond my understanding. It did not make sense, yet every mage I had come across insisted on chanting these foreign words.

"I did not. Nor do I see why you should have to. What is your name, lad?"

"Carn, sir."

Before I could say anything else, a short, stocky woman with bright red hair made herself heard. "Um… What's Aetherius?"

I narrowly resisted the urge to slap my face with the palm of my hand. These people could barely even be considered novices, and they were the leading squadron of mages for the Varden. My work would most certainly be cut out for me.

* * *

Following my long and tiresome lecture with the mostly inept members of Du Gata Vrangr, I immediately concluded that the late Arch-Mage Savos Aren was worthy of far more respect than I had previously afforded him.

They were disorderly, unsystematic, ignorant and overall incompetent. Only a few had stuck out, such as Trianna and Carn, showing a hint of something great waiting to be unleashed. I could still vividly recall the slight drooling down the sorceress' lips once the conversation had turned to conjuration, and I demonstrated the proper way to bind a Daedra into the shape of a sword.

It surprised me greatly that no one had any knowledge whatsoever of Daedra, merely referring to them as spirits. It was disconcerting, if only because most Daedra lived to flaunt their superiority and lord their dominion over mortals. I was not particularly keen on discovering the reason behind their low profile.

"At last!" I hear Orik exclaim. The dwarf, along with Eragon and I, had spent a considerable amount of time waiting by Tronjheim's northern gate. It was from here that we would depart, setting off for Ellesméra.

Not that the wait had been monotonous – far from it. I had the pleasure of witnessing Eragon being inducted into Orik's clan, Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, as well as the interactions between two magnificent dragons. Odahviing and Saphira had yet to stop circling each other; their sharp eyes locked in a battle of wills.

 **"Thuri. More _joore_ approach."** my partner commented dryly, finally coming to a halt. The dragoness followed his gaze and snorted a ball of azure flames in recognition.

Nasuada and Arya were walking in our direction, the former dressed lightly in a dress while the latter wore a rather tight-fitting, black leather outfit; sword hanging from her hip. I also noticed an older man trailing after them; a small smile on his face.

All of the attention immediately became focused on Eragon. He and Nasuada spoke briefly of his responsibilities, and I noted the stiff way in which Arya addressed the boy. The elderly man shook the young Rider's hand, before turning to me.

"Ah, Ysmir. I've heard a lot about you. I am Jörmundur, of the Council of Elders."

I nodded, grasping and shaking the man's proffered arm as well. Arya acknowledged me with an inclination of her head, which I returned, while Nasuada smiled and tiptoed her way across to me. It was then I saw that she only wore a thin pair of slippers beneath her feet.

"Ysmir, there you are. Oh… This armor of yours… I must admit, it looks rather macabre."

She had a point. An armor made of bones would probably look sinister, regardless of its efficiency. What made it even worse, was that I did not dare reveal just what kind of bone it was, for fear my new allies' reactions.

"But no matter. Take care of Eragon, yes?" she continued, and I chuckled when the boy in question looked back at us with a flustered expression. He then shook his head; bending his knees and heaving himself atop his magnificent, white stallion.

I nodded silently, and Nasuada smiled once more and reached up to pat my shoulder. Seeing Eragon sitting comfortably atop his steed, I was suddenly struck by a moment of inspiration. If anything, it would make for a wonderful prank.

An orb of violet light hovered between my hands as I prepared a summoning spell.

"Come forth, Arvak!"

* * *

And there we have it! Not too long, I suppose, but I hope it was enough to rekindle some of the flames for this story. Hopefully the right sort of flames... In any case, thanks for reading, and any reviews are welcome as always!


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